


The Banalities of Blintzes

by JazzRaft



Series: kitchen disasters [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Food Porn, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 07:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20004457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Ravus walks into the kitchen, not expecting his sister to be the one working the stovetop. Which begged the question, "How did you get sauce on the ceiling?"





	The Banalities of Blintzes

**Author's Note:**

> A [tumblr prompt fill](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186498816762/ravus-with-how-did-you-get-sauce-on-the-ceiling) from a list of [kitchen disasters!](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186452779569/kitchen-disasters)

“How did you get sauce on the ceiling?”

It was the first thing that Ravus noticed upon stepping into the kitchen. For a single, alarming second, he almost thought that the bright red splatter was blood, and that his sister’s uncharacteristic swearing was indicative of pain to coincide with it. A quick rake through his mental catalogue of war wounds and household accidents alike assured him that in no way was it possible for the trajectory of blood loss to reach such an exaggerated height. And judging by the overall smell sweetening the room, there was a much more innocent victim to blame for the stain.

“Ah, Ravus! You’re back earlier than expected,” Luna greeted him over her shoulder, pointedly avoiding the question.

She pressed her arms down on the lid of a blender full of the red, syrupy mixture and turned it on, committing all of her weight into keeping the appliance secure. It didn’t take the head of Imperial Sciences to piece together the mystery of the mile-high stain after that.

It did not, however, solve the conundrum of why his sister, the faultless figurehead of House Fleuret, esteemed Princess of Tenebrae, and beloved Oracle, favored by the very Astrals themselves, was currently combating the banalities of kitchen grievances as if she didn’t have a whole household of professional chefs hired to do it for her.

“Lunafreya,” Ravus said between the raucous pulses of the blender. “What are you doing, wasting your time with a task better suited to a servant than a sovereign?”

“It’s not time wasted if I take pleasure in the task,” she said, her back drawn in a stubborn line against his criticism. “Besides, we both know that sovereignty is not in my future, no matter if I desired it or not.”

Ravus pressed his lips into a hard line, trapping his outrages against her denied right to rule Tenebrae inside his chest, where no Imperial flies on the wall could hear them. Though Fenestala Manor was _supposed_ to be their one refuge from the brunt of Imperial influence, Ravus found it hard to trust that every word he said wouldn’t somehow still worm its way back to the Emperor’s ear. Half of the staff was hired from Niflheim, after all.

Perhaps he wasn’t alone in his distrust. Perhaps that explained part of the reason Luna took it upon herself to cook. She was polite and pliant to the Emperor’s strict regulations, but she was not naïve. Not that they were ever at risk of being poisoned, lest fingers first point at the most obvious suspect, but it couldn’t hurt to trust one’s own hands to thread through a nest of vipers every once in a while.

But maybe that was just how Ravus saw it, paranoid as he was. Maybe his sister’s motives for making a meal were far simpler than that.

Daring to step closer to the reddish war zone of the kitchen counters, Ravus recognized the components of the recipe she was attempting to emulate. The thin pancakes had been a staple of their childhood, wrapped around a delicate, sweet cheese filling and drizzled in berry syrup. The compote always depended on the season, ranging from spiceberries to lingonberries to Ulwaat berries and more. Luna’s favorite flavor had always been blueberry; Ravus’s had been raspberry.

He’d recognized the scents as soon as he’d walked in: the sugar baked into the crepe batter, the lemon perfuming the filling, and the butter browning the airy confection wrapped around the fluffy white cheese on a plate as it waited for a drizzle of color from the raspberry syrup. It seemed to be the one ingredient that had caught his sister by surprise, the countertops otherwise immaculate beneath the ricochet of raspberry sauce.

“Underestimated the power of the high setting, did you?” he asked, in an effort to lighten the tension from his initial entrance.

“I’m certain you’d find it to be just as adversarial if you were to try it,” Luna countered, though there was no bite to it, the corner of her lip creasing into a smile.

“What prompted this ill-fated duel in the first place?”

“Oh, boredom,” she sighed. “A fit of nostalgia, a wanton craving for whimsy, a fancy of frivolity… What else do you usually call it?”

Ravus turned away, walking back through his past sleights of condescension and cringing at every one. He was often harsher with Luna than he intended to be, his worry for her well-being manifesting in whiplash remarks that he couldn’t snap at the true arbiters of his ire without suffering the irreversible consequences. But with Luna, he was always forgiven for every curt phrase, even though he didn’t deserve it.

“What do _you_ call it?” he asked, slowly, taking a deep breath of raspberry syrup to recall a time when his words didn’t struggle to come out kinder.

“I don’t call it anything,” Luna said, spooning the syrup that was spared from splattering the ceiling over the blintzes. “I just felt like it.”

She picked up a plate and presented it to Ravus. A peace offering, for all those years where he’d forgotten how to be her brother in his desperation to keep her safe as High Commander. Ravus took it, waiting for her to claim her own plate and fork before tasting her creation. The synchronicity of their cutting into the blintzes and scooping up a forkful seemed to delight her more than the familiar consistency of the cheese mixture. That they could still share in this old confection as if they were still children, meant more to the both of them than how much it tasted like home.

“I doubt that hack from Niflheim could have done it justice,” Ravus offered, daring to insult the head chef usually in charge of these kitchens. He cut another bite out of the blintz, swirling it generously through the pool of raspberry syrup.

“Never,” Luna agreed. “Though I’ll happily let him figure out how to clean that.”

She pointed her fork at the ceiling. Ravus smiled at the tortured expression he imagined on the man’s face as he teetered on a latter, attempting to scrub out the stain. Perhaps he and Luna still had more in common than he thought, to delight in the misery of the Niflheim rats plaguing their manor.

“Best not carry out any evidence that it was you,” he said, indicating a pink strand of syrup that had dripped down into her hair.

She blinked at him, uncomprehending, raking a hand through her bangs in search of it. Ravus rolled his eyes and batted her fingers away, carefully picking out the strand and attempting to comb out the sugar.

“Ow, don’t yank on it!”

“It won’t come out without a little bit of force.”

“It’s hair, Ravus, not an enemy battalion.”

“I assure you that this is war, Lunafreya.”

“Do settle it _peacefully_ then, won’t you?”

They bickered over the blintzes and battled with the berry sauce for the rest of the evening. And for once, Ravus didn’t have a single, bitter thing to say about it.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not often I get that I get to explore the sibling dynamic between the Fleurets. They deserve some sweet, peaceful moments like this :')


End file.
